25 Days With Mr Arrogant
by lightxbright
Summary: When her boyfriend dumps her, Bella out of uncharacteristic fury throws his anniversary gift that by a cruel twist of fate dents Edward Cullen's car. As a poor college student with no money, she is forced to spend 25 days with him as his servant to pay off her debts.
1. car trouble

**Hello, all. There is a Korean movie that exists - "100 Days With Mr. Arrogant" - which inspired this story. This holds the same idea, but will have VERY different events, characters, etc. So I give the idea credit to that film, but the rest of this is mine! It's also an excellent, hilarious movie - I suggest you check it out ;)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Twilight_ or its characters - those are all thanks to Stephanie Meyer. =)**

**Enjoy!**

**xxx**

**car trouble**

If someone had told me the beginning of the worst month of my life would occur that evening, I'd laugh at them.

With how well things were going in my life, having a worst day didn't seem feasible. I was earning exceptional grades in all of my courses. My favorite college professor had agreed to write me a letter of recommendation for an internship program I wanted to enroll in. The internship program seemed to be a shoe-in for me; I was an excellent student with a nearly flawless academic record. And there was my boyfriend, Nathan. We'd been together for a year and planned to celebrate our anniversary at one of the more luxurious bistros in the city.

If someone had told me that the worst day of my life was about to unfold, I'd think they were crazy.

Little did I know that nine hours later _I'd _feel like the crazy one.

Because I will now introduce you to the series of events that led up to the worst fucking day of my life.

**xxx**

It began in my political science class. This was the course taught by my favorite instructor who'd agreed a month prior to write my letter of recommendation. After the class had ended and I gathered my books, he had stopped me from leaving the room. It was an awkward moment; the other students smirked a bit as they flooded out the doors, and I was left in the cold, empty room with Doctor Lewis and his steel-framed desk. I approached him cautiously, clutching my bag at my side and attempting to maintain calm as my breathing became shallow.

He sat at the large desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper frantically. When he finally did look up, pushing his oval-shaped wire glassed up on top of his head, I knew something was wrong. You see, Doctor Lewis almost _never _slides his glasses up to his head. It's a bit of a trademark move he goes through with when a student is in trouble or if something dire exists.

"I suppose I'll cut right to the chase, Bella," he spoke in a low, even voice. My heart raced a little quicker at this. "I've graded all of the exams, and while you've been such a wonderful addition to this class, I'm - I'm a bit astounded at your test in particular."

The exam was sitting in front of him; I recognized my barely legible handwriting. What was completely unrecognizable, though, was the excessive red streaks darting along my scribbles. I let my eyes lift from the paper to meet his. "Did I do poorly?"

He sat back a bit, glancing down at the test. His chest puffed out in an inaudible sigh. "I've never seen you do worse than a high B on these exams," he began, looking up towards me. "Did you study for this? Or… get enough sleep?"

"Doctor Lewis," my voice was dry - hoarse, even. "Please just tell me. What did I get?"

A long moment of silence sat heavy through the air.

And then…

"You received a sixty-five."

I blinked rapidly, not able to fully comprehend what he'd just said. "W-what?"

His sigh was audible this time as he looked up towards me, leaning forward onto his hands. "Now, a sixty-five is certainly not an F - "

"To me it is." I couldn't breathe very well at this point.

"We all have our off days," he explained calmly. "However, I am sad to say that this exam has brought your class grade down to a low B."

I swallowed hard. "Can I make up for it?"

"You can," he nodded slowly. "But unfortunately this impacts my ability to write you that letter of recommendation."

Now I _really _couldn't breathe. "I'm - I'm sorry?"

"I don't like the politics of it, but if a student falls below an A, I'm not obliged to write something like that for them." Pausing, he offered a solemn half-smile. "I'm sorry, Bella."

My eyes had gone uncomfortably dry, as I wasn't blinking or really even understanding what was happening. All I knew was that I'd just checked off two great aspects of my day. No longer did I have straight A's, and my favorite professor had just rejected me.

Two down.

**xxx**

"It's only a grade."

My roommate's voice was infuriatingly drone as it echoed through our tiny apartment and into my room. I was standing in front of my mirror, my mood nearly entirely deflated from my encounter with Doctor Lewis earlier that day. Of course my roommate would say this - she was a fashion major failing nearly every course. School and grades were not top priorities on her list. I attempted to keep my head up, however; I still had a wonderful dinner with my boyfriend in an hour. I still had that.

"Is that what you're wearing?"

Her voice was stronger this time around, and when I turned my head, I saw that she was leaning against my doorframe with a bag of low-fat pretzels in her hands. She eyed me with disinterest, her gaze roaming my jeans and simple white blouse.

"What's wrong with it?" I questioned, chewing my lip as I fastened the final button near the top of the shirt.

She let out a sigh, strolling towards me and discarding the half-eaten pretzel bag on my dresser. I saw her in the mirror behind me, much taller and disgustingly more beautiful than me. After a long moment, she pointed a long, manicured finger towards the lower hem of my blouse.

"There's a stain right there," she said. "It's pink or something."

I narrowed my eyes, looking closer. And there it was, in all of its pink glory. A spot the size of a quarter, it was noticeable even under the poor lighting of my bedroom.

Well, _fuck _me.

I groaned, my arms falling to my sides. "This is my only nice shirt that's clean."

She smiled slightly, cocking her head. "I have an entire closet of clothes, you know."

"I don't think a leopard silk shirt would be appropriate for the occasion, Rosalie," I rolled my eyes. "But thank you for the offer."

Rosalie scoffed, flipping a long section of her impossibly blonde hair over her shoulder. Turning to grab her pretzels and leave my room, she cast me one last look. "Fine, Bella. But when you show up wearing your grandmother's knit sweater, don't say I didn't tell you so."

As my door closed with a soft click, I turned my attention back to the stain on the blouse. At this point, I had one of two options. I could wear this clean shirt and hope that Nathan wouldn't notice the blotch marring the material near the bottom. Or, I could wear a cardigan that my grandmother actually _did _give me for Christmas two years ago.

Sighing, I turned to the closet, pulling the stained shirt off as I went. Grandmotherly sweater, here I come.

**xxx**

"You're breaking up with me?"

His head hung slightly and he stared down at the pasta plate in front of him, his eyes avoiding mine. "I'm sorry," He mumbled, shrugging lightly. "I just feel like our relationship is going nowhere."

I leaned back in my chair, my eyes not leaving him, the anger in me building up in a frightening manner. _No_. Oh _no_. This wasn't happening, it _wasn't_.

"How precious, Nathan," I said after a moment, sneering at him. "Breaking up on our one year anniversary, how _perfect_." I paused for a moment, inhaling deeply through my nose, and had the incredible urge to spew word vomit at the boy situated across from me. _Keep it down keep it down keep it down. _"Did you plan this out, hmm? Did you think it would be perfect timing to fuck me over on our half year?"

"I'm sorry."

"No- _no_, don't you _dare_ say that," I snapped, my voice rising. "Say anything but you're_ sorry_."

"Bella…" He sighed, trailing off, and looked up then. His eyes were wavering slightly as he stared at me, "You… you deserve better than me. I mean that."

I'd heard enough of him at this point, and stood from my seat, chucking the napkin into my plate of untouched chicken penne. "It's fine," I announced coldly, "I was going to do this eventually, so I should be thanking you for saving me the trouble."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I was already well on my way out of the restaurant, storming past the hostess with rage flowing through my veins, intoxicating me. Shoving the door open and stepping outside into the cool night air, I realized I needed to clear my head before I did anything irrational. Taking long strides, I followed the uneven sidewalk into a back alley, which wrapped around to an empty parking lot.

I stopped and sat on the curb, my legs stretched in front of me, my hands balled into fists in my pockets. When my fingers brushed against an object in the right pocket of my jacket, rage once again consumed my entire being. I pulled out the object and dropped it into my lap; it was a small, flat box, a red bow stuck on the top. I opened it, my breathing becoming erratic as my eyes landed on the two small strips of paper laid gently within the tissue paper. Two tickets to a Yankee's game. The seats were amazing – the price, however, was not so helpful on my bank account. I'd waited in the rain for these tickets. Underneath them was tucked a small piece of paper.

_Happy one year! I love you_.

God, I was a fucking moron.

My fingers closed around the box in a tight grip, turning my knuckles white, and before I could help myself, I had stood up quickly and chucked the object as far and as fast as I could. I was breathing heavier now, a sense of relief washing through me, and I smiled maliciously to myself. That felt good, I decided. Yes, very good. I brushed my hands on the tops of my legs and began to walk back towards the main street, empowerment pulsating through me, but I hadn't gotten very far because a voice broke my thoughts.

"Excuse me."

I stopped in my tracks and turned slowly to see a figure standing in the back parking lot where I'd just been. It was a male. He was tall, draped in dark colored clothing, and had a heavy wool coat on over his lean frame. As he stepped closer towards me, his face became clearer under the street lamp. His hair was a dark, brassy color, and slightly messy despite it short cut. His mouth was full and pretty and his eyes, which stared murderously at me, were a bright hazel color. As my eyes trailed down his body, I saw the flat box I'd just chucked minutes ago in his hand.

"Is this yours?" He asked, waving the box slightly. His voice was deep and surprisingly calm considering the enraged expression etched across his face.

"Yes," I replied coolly. "Why?"

A smirk tugged at his lips. He turned to look behind him, motioning to something with his head. "Do you see that car?" I looked behind him to see a sleek, black car parked maybe one hundred feet behind him. I nodded and he let out a quiet laugh, "That is mine."

I rolled my eyes, "Good for you."

His eyes darkened and he raised the box again, waving it in front of me. "This is yours, that car is mine. _This_…" He paused for a moment to thrust it towards me, "Hit my _car_."

I scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"Come here," He demanded, walking swiftly towards the black Audi. I followed begrudgingly, wondering why the hell I wasn't running off at this point. He stopped at the side of the car and motioned down with a long finger. "Look, right there. See?"

I leaned down, squinting my eyes at the area he was pointing to, observing quietly. My eyes scanned the area before I straightened again. "No, I don't see anything."

He sneered, giving me a glimpse of his white teeth. "Look closer."

I sighed, leaning down again, studying the surface of the car for a second time. This time, my eyes caught sight of what he was referring to – a tiny, barely visible scratch. "That?" I pointed at the tiny mark. "That's nothing, it's a scratch."

"This_ dented_ my car," He spat, looking down at the box in his hand before his gaze landed on me again. "Do you have any idea how expensive this car is?"

"I don't really care," I replied dryly. "Look, I've had a shitty night, I'm not in the mood to be standing in a back parking lot staring at your car, okay?"

"You damaged my property," He hissed, stepping forward. "You must pay collateral."

"I must _what_?" My mouth opened slightly in awe before I shook my head, "No. No, _no_. I'm walking away now. Because _that_- " I paused to point down at the small scratch. "Is _nothing_."

He raised a hand to his chin, staring down pensively at the side of the vehicle. His long fingers stroked absently at his chin while he nodded in contemplation. "I would estimate at least three thousand dollars in collateral."

"What?!" I practically shouted, taking a step backward, my eyes wide in bewilderment. "What are you _on_?! That can't be more than a hundred bucks!"

"So," He smirked after a moment, glancing at me. "Will you pay in cash? Or should we contact the insurance companies?"

"I can't afford that," I sneered. "I'm a college student, for God's sake, I can barely afford a week's worth of groceries."

"By the looks of things-" he paused to open the box, his eyebrows rising. "Yankees tickets. Box seats…" he nodded in an assumed impressed manner. "…You don't seem too _poor_ to me."

"Listen, asshole," I snapped, and his eyes widened at this. "I'm not paying you _shit_. I'm leaving now because I am _this_ close to punching something, and your _face_ is mighty close, if you understand what I'm saying…"

"Threatening me now?" He hissed again. "My lawyer will have a field day with this one."

"Fuck you."

"Sexual harassment, too?" He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a sly smile grazing his full lips. "Oh, sweetheart, keep going."

Before he had the chance to continue with his snarky comments, I turned on my heel and took off running, the wind blowing through my frazzled hair and tickling the bare skin of my arms. I ignored his shouts from behind me as my legs pumped furiously. I ran five or six blocks, eventually making it to a drugstore around the corner from my apartment.

I was huffing frantically at this point, feeling the adrenaline pumping through me. I felt victorious, remembering the shocked look on the face of the tall man in the dark suit in the back alley as I took off running. I decided it was time to celebrate, and stepped inside of the drugstore, making my way towards the dairy section. Oh, yes, a pint of mint chocolate chip would soothe _everything_. I grabbed the carton from the freezer and made my way to the front, a smile plastered on my face. Nathan might have dumped me in front of the entire restaurant on our one year, and I might have blown three hundred bucks on stupid baseball game tickets for him, but I had just outsmarted a prick in an alley and I felt _great_.

"That'll be three twenty-two," The man at the register informed me as he slid the carton into a plastic bag. With a smile, I reached into my jacket for my wallet, fishing around inside. My eyebrows furrowed together as I searched one pocket, then the other. My smile died within moments, then, upon the realization that my wallet was nowhere to be found.

Oh, _shit_.

And that was how my day quickly transpired to be the absolute _worst _day of my life.

**xxx**

**thoughts? i'd love to hear them! thank you for reading!**


	2. morning coffee

**To answer a question which will be resolved soon enough - Bella is a senior in college… she's about 22. Edward is around 26. =)**

**Edward didn't pickpocket Bella; the wallet dropped out of her bag as she took off. Unfortunately for her. =p. 3500 for 25 days comes out to about 140 dollars. Which is nothing to him. And about the price of some cleaning services.**

**Again, I don't own _Twilight _or its characters. Enjoy!**

**xxx**

**morning coffee**

"Bella."

_God, no._

"Bella…"

_Go away._

"Bella!"

"What?" I managed to mumble, turning over and blinking wearily into the face of my roommate. She stood there over me, eyes lined heavily and lips slicked with her usual peach lip gloss, a mug of hot coffee gripped between her manicured fingers. I glanced behind her and squinted to better view the clock resting on my shelf. "What the hell, Rose? It's seven thirty." I turned over, pulling the blanket over my head.

"I know, but –"

"Nothing," I snapped from under the blanket. "But nothing. It's Saturday. Let me sleep in peace, _please_."

Rosalie sighed and I heard her sip from her mug. "Someone is here."

I paused a moment, then peeked at her from under the blanket. "…What?"

"Yeah," She nodded, taking another delicate sip. "A guy, he's here to see you."

"What are you talking about?" I groaned softly. "It's _seven_ fucking _thirty_."

"He's got your wallet or something," She shrugged. A slow smile grazed her lips, "And he's pretty hot."

"My wallet?" I repeated, pulling the blanket from over my head. "You said my wallet?'

"Mm," She nodded, turning to walk towards the door. "And he's sitting in the other room, he wants to talk to you."

"Wait.." I threw the blanket off, swinging my legs over the side of the bed quickly. "Wait a sec…"

She glanced at me over her shoulder, her blonde hair gleaming in the dim light that the sun cast through the blinds of my window. She scoffed and made a face, sipping from her mug slowly. "You might want to comb your hair or something," She suggested. "Like I said, the guy's gorgeous."

"I don't care," I snapped, standing up and stretching. I had no issue with my usual sleep attire – an old high school shirt that had faded lettering etched across it and a pair of baggy, shorts.

"You should…" She warned, opening the door with a soft creak. "Anyway, I'm going to go talk to him some more. _Try_ to make yourself presentable, would you?"

I rolled my eyes as the door shut softly behind her. Rosalie was so different from me; I'd met her in a creative writing class my first semester of college. She was the typical "perfect" girl – always wore the nicest clothes that showed off her slim, tanned body and always had makeup defining her pretty features. She took pride in her appearance. I did, too. Sometimes.

I glanced at myself in the mirror and inwardly groaned. My eyes were slightly bloodshot – I'd forgotten to take my contacts out so they were dry, and makeup from the night before was smudged under the creases. My hair was a tangled, frizzy mess, and I reached up to run a hand roughly through the strands, wincing as my fingers caught in the snarls. Sighing, I let my hand drop. Whatever.

When I walked out into the living room, I could hear Rosalie's laughter bubbling through the air. Oh, yes, this one must have been attractive to her because I could _hear_ her working her charm on this guy. I didn't care _what_ he looked like, to be honest, because all I was concerned with was the fact that my wallet would be back in my possession – safe and sound. It had only been three days and I'd cancelled my credit card, but my wallet was given to me from my parents when they'd traveled to Italy. They'd picked it up in some vintage shop, and it was this extremely adorable thing with undeniable charm. Rosalie had called it ratty when I'd showed it to her, and I suppose it _was_ a bit ratty when compared to her one hundred dollar Coach clutch.

"Oh, that's _fantastic_. I took a finance course once – but I was no good at it."

More bubbly laughter.

I rubbed at my eyes as I walked in, and saw Rosalie sitting in the armchair, her legs crossed daintily as she beamed at the figure sitting on the couch adjacent to her. She glanced up when she saw me walk in, her eyes scanning me up and down disapprovingly. After a moment, she spoke.

"Bella…" She trailed off, her eyes locking on mine, begging me to change. Not a chance. "This is… Edward."

I glanced to get a look at the guy. I wish I didn't. A dark gray fitted suit clung to his trim figure, sleek black leather dress shoes peeking out from the hem of his pant legs. A crimson silk tie was knotted tightly against his collar, and a massive silver watch was draped about his wrist. His hair was coppery and messy, his eyes venomous and a hazel color. Oh, yes. Mister _jackass_ was sitting on _my_ couch talking to _my_ flirtatious roommate.

Oh, _fuck_ me.

He looked up at me, a smirk tugging the corner of his full lips. I could practically read his thoughts. _Caught you._ His eyes locked on mine and I knew I was in deep shit. I swallowed hard and forced myself to remember to fucking _breathe_.

"Hi," He spoke up, his voice slow and calm and infuriatingly deliberate.

My throat was dry. "…H-hi."

His arm rose from its position in his lap, and in between his long fingers was my wallet. He waved it gently at me, almost mockingly. "I found this," He said. "In an alley. Strange place to leave a wallet, don't you think?"

"I…"

"An alley?" Rosalie frowned slightly, looking at the wallet and then at me. "Why were you in an alley?"

"I wasn't," I said quickly. "I…I mean…"

"It's fine," The smug one on the couch known as _Edward _spoke up. He shrugged, "Sometimes things happen for unknown reasons."

Rosalie frowned slightly and then glanced at him with a coy smile, "Why were _you_ in the alley?"

"My car was parked back there," he replied, his eyes locking on mine. "It seems someone vandalized it while I was having dinner."

"Oh, you're _kidding_," she gasped. I felt like vomiting. Edward didn't break eye contact.

"Yes, it's a shame," He sighed. "People are so inconsiderate."

I stepped forward then. "Well…" I cleared my throat gently, uncomfortably. "Thanks for returning it."

He held it out for me and I took it, trying to avoid the burning sensation I felt in my chest as I _knew_ his damn eyes were on me. I took it and retreated quickly, clutching the wallet so tightly that I knew my knuckles were turning white.

"Bella, Edward is a financial broker for Cullen Associates," Rosalie said suddenly, beaming at him. "Isn't that great?"

"Yeah, great," I mumbled, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes. I glanced at her."Rose, why don't you offer him something to drink?"

"What? Oh yes, I'm so rude," She huffed, standing up. "Are you thirsty? We have some coffee… or orange juice, if you prefer."

Edward smiled warmly at her. "Coffee would be great."

"Okay," She nodded with a smile. "Do you want milk in it? Sugar?"

He shook his head. "No, it's fine. I drink my coffee black." He cast me a long, scathing look. "I enjoy the bitterness."

"One black coffee coming up," She stood suddenly and winked at him before making her way to the kitchen, her hips deliberately swaying with each step. When she disappeared, I was left in uncomfortable silence with the man I'd run from nights ago. Fucking _perfect_.

"You're clever," I remarked dryly, crossing my arms loosely against my chest. "Acting like you don't know me. Coming to my _apartment _this early. Well played."

"Well of course," He drawled, his eyes flickering as they roamed my ratty t-shirt and frazzled hair. "I wanted to see what a _beauty_ you were in the morning."

"Oh, fuck off," I snapped, scowling at him. He let out a short laugh at this.

"Look," he tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair. "This can go one of two ways – you can either be compliant to my request, or I can dial up the authorities as soon as I leave." He shrugged, smiling viciously at me. "The choice is yours."

"Call the authorities for what, exactly?"

"Your decision to vandalize my car and run."

I rolled my eyes, "You're dramatic. But whatever…" I sighed heavily and tentatively met his brown gaze. "What is it you want?'

"I don't think it's appropriate to talk about it here," He said. "So I want you to meet me at a café at six tonight."

"A _café_?" I laughed dryly, shaking my head. "You realize this is New York City, right? That there are _hundreds_ of cafes?"

He sneered at me, "_Yes_, I realize that." He paused and pointed at my wallet. "I put the address in there, so unless you're directionally _challenged_, you shouldn't have any issue finding it."

"So I'm meeting you to… what? Talk?'

He smirked. "Negotiate."

"And if I don't come?"

"Are you that stupid? Haven't I told you what your options were?"

"Whatever," I huffed, remembering his threat of calling the police. I shifted from one foot to the other, feeling rage course through my veins. After a moment, I sighed and groaned under my breath. "Fine. Whatever."

At that moment, Rosalie came prancing in, her hips still swaying, with a mug of steaming hot coffee. She handed him the cup, making a face as he took a long drink from it. "I don't know _how_ you drink the stuff black – it's so strong."

He licked his lips and sighed heavily after the mug left his lips. "Mm, I enjoy it strong." He winked at her, "But I think I've got to get going."

"Aw, so soon?" she frowned. "But you just got here."

"I apologize," He said, taking another long drink and setting the mug on the table. "I have a long day ahead of me." He said this as he looked at me and I felt more anger course through me.

"It's fine, at least let me walk you to the door," she smiled.

"Of course." He glanced at me and winked slyly before walking with Rosalie to the door. I collapsed into the armchair and glanced over my shoulder, seething at the sight of her pressing a piece of folded paper into his hand. Of _course_ she'd give him her number. Of course she would. He took it and grinned at her before giving me one last long look and disappearing. Rosalie came gliding back into the room, a goofy smile plastered on her gorgeous little face. It was the most emotion I'd seen from her that wasn't contempt or annoyance in a long while.

"Oh, wow," She sighed, pressing a hand to her chest. "Oh, _wow_, he was gorgeous."

"I didn't think so," I said.

"You're joking," She laughed. "Did you _see_ his face?"

"Did you _see _his _hair_?" I snapped.

"Oh, please," She waved a hand at me. "You're too picky. Anyway, I gave him my number. He said he'd call me, isn't that great?'

"Wonderful," I mumbled.

"Stop being so pessimistic all the time, Bella."

How could I _not_ be? I was being forced against my will – basically, tonight, to meet this asshole at a café to discuss "negotiations" because I'm an apparent criminal for leaving a microscopic scratch on some rich broker's car.

Could my life get any _worse _at the moment?

I groaned and leaned my head back, rubbing my eyes gently.

_God, help me._

**xxx**

**Poor Bella. Haha. Leave some love if you're loving this ;)**


	3. dinner negotiations

**I don't own ****_Twilight. _**

**Enjoy.**

**xxx**

**dinner negotiations**

When I sat down at the table later that evening, around six, there was an undeniable tension lying heavy in the air. After a long day of classes, my agitation only heightened when I'd realized that the address scribbled messily on the piece of paper tucked in my wallet was the address to one of the most expensive bistros in the area. It was also one of the furthest from my apartment, and the travel time had caused a rage to slowly boil through my veins.

Edward was sitting as comfortable as ever in his seat, leaning back casually and taking long drags from a cigarette. I'd brushed past the stiff-looking Maître D, who'd given both me and my clothing a disgusted glance, and made my way to the table placed in a far corner. Edward didn't look at me as I stood at the table, and just continued to smoke quietly and stare unfocused ahead. I cleared my throat, crossing my arms, my eyebrows furrowed together, and he finally let his eyes shift to me.

"You're late," He drawled cooly. He took a slow inhale from the fag between his lips and released it as I sat down, the smoke fanning into my face in a steady stream. I coughed, waving my hand through the air to rid my breathing passage of the burning smoke.

"And you're blowing smoke in my face," I retaliated through a sputter of coughs, my tear ducts watering slightly.

The end of the cigarette turned a soft amber color as his eyes shifted behind me again, unfocused and hooded in indifference. His lips parted slightly and another stream of smoke escaped them, again fanning against my face and causing a series of dry coughs to escape my throat. "Do you have an excuse for your late arrival?"

"I have an _excuse_," I coughed; my head darted out of the path of his fading smoke. "If you'd stop blowing _smoke_ in my face, I could tell you."

His gaze shifted to mine, brightly hazel in color and uninterested and absolutely _infuriating _and although he didn't answer, I felt a small jolt of relief as he leaned down and pressed the end of his bud into the ashtray with two long fingers.

"Thanks," I snapped, reaching down for the glass of water in front of me. I took a long sip, relishing the feeling of the cool water sliding down, and set the glass back in its position. "I'm late because it was a long walk."

"Walk?" he repeated, cocking a dark eyebrow. "You _walked_ here?"

"Yes," I glared. "It was a good _ten_ miles."

Edward snorted, shaking his head. "You're an idiot if you walked here. You could have taken a cab."

"I don't have money for a cab," I snapped, "Though I wish I did because I want to get this over with."

"Nah," He smirked, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. His lower lip was full and gleamed lightly in the light and I found my gaze locked on it for longer than I wanted. "We're going to enjoy our meals first, then we'll talk business."

I let out a short, dry laugh as I looked down at the elaborate menu in front of me. "Sorry, but I'm not going to be enjoying anything. I can't even afford a cup of coffee from this place."

"I figured as much," He muttered, the smirk still evident on his mouth. "Which is why I took the liberty of ordering for you."

I was at a loss of words. My eyes widened slightly and flitted over his features, looking for any sign of sarcasm and malice, but alas there was none. "You…you what?"

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't order my guest something?" He smiled slightly, and for the first time since I'd met him, I felt something settle in my chest that wasn't the usual disgust or confusion or annoyance. He glanced behind me and his eyes lit up, his head cocking up slightly and nodding in the direction. "Ah, here comes our waiter now. Perfect timing."

I looked over my shoulder behind me and saw the waiter approaching with two silver domes resting on his hand, his face stoic and stone-cold. He approached the table briskly and set the first dome in front of Edward, picking up the top and revealing a steaming plate of pasta noodles, doused in some sort of cream sauce darted with fresh vegetables. There was a plate next to him, piled with thick slices of garlic bread, steaming lightly and looking _so _delicious. A glass of deep red wine sat beside him, and I glanced excitedly up at the waiter to see what he'd brought me. My dome was set down before me and the top was lifted, and I could barely contain my excitement because I was so damn hungry from the long day I'd had and I was having dinner in one of the nicest bistros in the city and –

What the _hell_?

Edward was eating his pasta quietly and wasn't even glancing in my direction to see the look of disbelief plastered on my face. I stared down at what the waiter, who'd walked off now, had set down before me, and shook my head. I blinked repeatedly, thinking that _maybe_ if I opened my eyes the dish would change, but that worked to no avail.

"Edward," I cleared my throat, my eyes locked on the dish before me. He glanced up, chewing another bite of pasta. I motioned to the dish before me with a finger. "Is this… is this a _fruit_ _cup_?'

"No," he shook his head, taking a long sip of his wine. Looking up at my with gleaming eyes and a quirked mouth, he responded in a dry, humorless manner. "It's a sirloin steak."

"You ordered me a _fruit cup_ for dinner?" I asked incredulously, ignoring his sarcastic retaliation while letting my eyes shift back down to the tiny ceramic bowl.

"Don't forget the lemon water," He added with a smile, taking another swift, long drink from his expensive glass of wine.

I looked over at the tall glass of water and saw a mere one piece of lemon floating pathetically to the top, tinting the water a soft yellow color – roughly the shade of urine. I felt anger build up in me again, oh _yes_ was I offended, and I couldn't help the sneer that formed on my mouth. "Are you kidding me?" I asked, not making any move to eat some of the _fruit_ he'd ordered me. "This wouldn't fill my five year old cousin."

"Then order something else," He shrugged, putting another forkful of the rich-looking noodles into his mouth. I felt my stomach grumble at the sight of the hot, steaming sauce coating the noodles so heavily.

"Were you not listening two minutes ago when I said I can't afford anything here?

He glanced up, his eyebrows again cocking up towards the messy bronze strands. "Is that my problem?"

"Wow," I breathed out a laugh, shaking my head. "You are an _asshole_."

He leaned back, sighing happily as he swallowed a bite of food, and glanced at me through a hooded gaze. "You're lucky I ordered you anything at all."

"You shouldn't have bothered," I snapped, pushing the dish away. I was so damn hungry but I wasn't going to give in and eat the fruit because I knew it would cause that little arrogant smirk to tug at his lips and the silent laughter would echo in his eyes. I didn't want to cave. I crossed my arms stubbornly and mimicked his movements, leaning back in my chair.

"Suit yourself," He sneered at me, brushing invisible flecks of dust off of his jacket. "Go hungry, I don't care."

"Can we just discuss whatever negotiations you had in mind already?" I glanced down at my phone worriedly, "It's getting late and I have things to do tomorrow."

"Oh, yes you do," He grinned, pausing to reach into his jacket. He pulled out a slip of paper, folded neatly between his fingers, and placed it on the table, sliding it towards me. I glanced down at it, cocking a curious eyebrow.

"What's this?"

"Open it."

I sighed, reaching for the paper and unfolding it slowly. My eyes widened slightly after flitting over the typed print, and I glanced over the piece of paper to see his smiling face in view. "This is… some sort of contract?"

"That's right," he nodded. "I'll go over what it is you'll be doing for the next month – "

"_Month_?" I repeated quickly, my eyes widening further. "What do you mean a _month_?"

"Well, twenty five days," He shrugged casually. "I worked it out with my car dealership. The damages are just over three thousand – "

"You're on drugs," I interrupted in a shaky mumble. "_You_ are on drugs because that tiny dent was hardly.. no, _no_, this can't be…"

"Shut up and listen," He hissed, scowling at me. "The damages are as I _figured_ over three thousand dollars. The paint is custom imported from Italy and needs to be pre-ordered. The dent alone damaged the delicate frame…"

"I think I'm going to be sick…"

"…And the time to work off the costs is roughly twenty five days," He cocked his head at me, smiling slowly. "About a month."

"This is insane, this can't be happening," I mumbled, bringing a hand up to rub at my temples slowly. "No, no, no…"

"Yes, yes, _yes_," He mimicked, grinning. "If you're not willing to cooperate with my work demands, you could always just fork over the cash now – "

"I can't afford a fucking cup of _coffee_ ," I hissed, anger lighting up in my eyes. "You really think I could just _hand_ you three grand? Are you fucking _mental_?"

"You shouldn't have damaged my car," He said bluntly, shrugging his shoulders. His eyes averted to the piece of paper clenched between my fingers. "There are consequences for our actions. Yours is this agreement."

"What exactly am I agreeing to?"

He smiled slightly, "It's simple, really. You'll do some work for me for a month to pay off the expenses of my car."

"What sort of work?"

"Pretty basic things," He picked up his glass and took another drink, sighing after a heavy swallow. "Cooking, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping…." He pursed his lips in contemplation, his eyes drifting upward. "Washing my car…"

"Cooking?" I repeated. "Oh, you're in for a sad, _sad_ disappointment if you expect me to cook for you."

"It's part of the agreement," He snarled, his eyes glittering in anger. "Therefore you _will_ cook for me."

"Fine," I spat. "I hope you enjoy oatmeal and scrambled eggs, because that's the extent of what cooking I can do."

"We'll see," He scowled, nodding at the paper in my hands. "Just sign the line at the bottom."

"Why do I have to sign?"

"It's a contract," He said, rolling his eyes. "Your signature validates it."

"Oh," I muttered under my breath, glancing down at it. "Oh, oh! I get it now. This is like a form of slavery, isn't it?" I smirked at him, "You realize that slavery is illegal here in the United States, right?"

"You really want to talk about legality issues?" He smirked, leaning forward on two elbows. His eyes gleamed mischievously at me, his tongue darting out to swipe at his lower lip. "Isn't a _hit and run_ illegal, too? I think my attorney would enjoy that, don't you think?"

"Fine," I snapped, shaking my head. "Fine, I'll sign it. Do you have a pen?"

He silently handed me a pen, the smile still playing at his mouth as I ripped it from his fingers. I scribbled my signature messily onto the line before pushing the paper roughly towards him, letting out an exhale of air. "Fine. There."

He smiled, taking the paper and refolding it and then slipping it into his pocket. He pulled out a sleek, black phone then and tapped a few buttons, "I'll need your number then…"

"No," I shook my head. "No, that's where I draw the line. I'm not giving you my number."

"Fair enough," he frowned slightly, continuing to type into the pad. "I'll just assume you're always available – "

"God!" I rubbed at my eyes roughly, not believing the situation I'd gotten myself in. I had classes, other plans, a _social_ life… "Fine, I'll.. I'll give it to you."

I gave him the number and he typed it quickly, the smirk never fading from his lips. He then paid the waiter for the expensive _fruit_ cup he'd so graciously treated me to and stood from his seat, making a move to leave.

"Wait…" I spoke hesitantly, glancing up at him. He looked much taller than I'd remembered as he stared down at me. I bit my lower lip slightly, "How… did you get here?"

He snorted, rolling his eyes, "How else? I drove."

"Do you…" I licked my lips carefully, "Do you think I could get a ride?"

He pressed a finger to his chin, mockingly contemplating my request. After a moment, he looked at me with a subtle grin. "I don't think that's part of the contract."

And with that, he walked off.

Oh my God.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" I called out towards the back of his body, which moved to the front of the restaurant. He disappeared then, leaving me sitting alone with my chilled cup of fruit. I almost let out a small scream, but contained myself, taking in slow, even breaths.

I was forced into slavery with that asshole, I realized then, staring down at the white ceramic dish. Picking up a piece of melon, I popped it into my mouth with trembling fingers. I needed energy, I figured, chewing quickly as rage coursed through my veins. I'd need energy for the _ten_ mile walk I had ahead of me. I chewed a few more pieces of fruit rapidly, the sweet pieces going down my dry throat with difficultly. Inhaling slowly, I let my eyes flutter closed.

Twenty five days.

This wasn't happening.

**xxx**


End file.
